


Why?

by waywardbaby



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Jealous Dean Winchester, Sexual Tension, strong reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26140597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardbaby/pseuds/waywardbaby
Summary: You know what you want. You just have to make him see it too.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You, Dean x You, dean winchester x y/n, dean x reader - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Why?

“Fuck off, Dean!” I scream as I swipe my key card and almost kick the door of the hotel room open. I try to push it closed but he’s fast and blocks it with his foot, making it hit the wall behind it. He gets in and slams it with a thud that must have been heard through the entire hotel.

“Fuck off? Are you serious, Y/N?”

His voice echoes in the room like thunder. If I weren’t so angry at him, I might have felt a little scared but all I could see right now is red!

“After the stunt you pulled at the bar, you have the audacity to tell me to fuck off?”

I kick off my shoes and make my way to the small kitchenette in order to splash some water on my face in an effort to cool myself down. That and trying to put some distance between us as well. Because no matter how right I believe I am, a furious Dean Winchester is a force to be reckoned with. I turn on the tap, pull my hair off my shoulders and splash water on my face and to the back of my neck. I soon realize that water does nothing and one reason has to be his eyes, which I can feel, burning me even without looking.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Winchester?” I ask, turning around and leaning on the small counter that separates the kitchenette from the rest of the room.

“Since when is having fun translated as pulling a stunt?”

Taking a couple of steps is all he needs in order to cover the distance between us. He’s leaning on the other side of the counter, towering over me. I start feeling more intimidated but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing that. So, I look up at him challenging him to continue. 

“I’m sorry but what I saw can not be described as ‘having fun’.” He says, airquoting the last two words. “What I saw was you grinding against the first sleazeball that whispered a few sweet words in your ear. What I saw was you almost dry humping that sleazeball under the pretense of dance. What I saw was his paws grabbing every inch of your skin that was exposed to his - and not only his - starving eyes. I watched as he cupped your ass, squeezed your breasts, stuck his tongue down your throat. I watched as you let him do those things to you. That, isn’t my kind of fun.”

“I didn’t say it was your kind of fun. I said it was mine.” I retaliate and I watch as his eyes narrow and his nostrils flare up. And it hits me. He’s jealous. I feel glee swelling up inside me. I can sense him struggling to take a breath, to calm down.  
“Plus, I don’t think your idea of fun is much different to mine.” I continue, determined now to make him come clean or shut him up once and for all if he doesn’t.

I cast my eyes down and look at him under my lashes as I circle around the small counter that is separating us, dragging my index finger along the shiny top. “I mean…” I continue as I’m now standing right next to him, “… how is you fucking a new slut every chance you get different than me wanting to feel wanted…” I slowly move behind him, my finger now tracing a line along his broad shoulders, “… desired… satisfied?”

I stop on his other side and turn around so that my ass is leaning against the wood of the counter and cross my arms over my chest.

He’s boiling with anger. I can see it. I can even feel it from the heat that is radiating from his body.  
“It’s not the same.” He spits through gritted teeth.

“Why? Why isn’t it the same?”

“It just isn’t.” He answers but his voice is even more strained. His teeth are gritting even more than before and his eyes are dark, filled with anger.

“Why? Is it because I’m a woman and things that apply for men are forbidden to a woman?”

“No.”

“Why? Because you want to be able to put another notch in your belt whereas I’m not even allowed to ‘wear’ a belt?”

“NO!” His answer is more clipped, more menacing but it’s too late to back down now.

“Why? Because when I fuck around, I’m a slut but when you do it, you’re a stud?”

“NO! NO! NO!” He grabs me by the shoulders and moves his face close to mine. His breath is hot against my skin, tainted with the faint smell of whiskey. His lips hover mere inches above mine, plump and sexy. His fingers are biting into my flesh, bruising me.

“Why?” I whisper as I look at his freckle-dusted cheeks and savor his body’s scent. “Because all you really want is to bend me over the counter and-“

His mouth crashes on mine, shutting me up as his hand fists at the nape of my neck keeping me still. His lips bite and lick mine and he jerks my head to the left so he can continue his assault on the line of my jaw and stop right next to my ear.

“Fuck, yes! All I wanna do is bend you over the counter, rip your underwear and fuck you till you can’t think or walk straight. Because I wanna mark you up so everybody will know you’re mine. Because I wanna hear you scream my name when you come. Because I’m a selfish, jealous man who wants what he can’t have.”

I place a finger on his lips to shut him up and say : “Dean Winchester, you jerk. You have always had me. Now shut the fuck up and start delivering.”


End file.
